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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831301">Exodus 23:20</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wealthywetsunny/pseuds/Wealthywetsunny'>Wealthywetsunny</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Far Cry 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Biblical Angels, Drug Use, F/M, Guardian Angels, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Eden’s Gate, Religious Fanaticism, Supernatural Elements, Supernatural Hunters, tags to be added later</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:47:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wealthywetsunny/pseuds/Wealthywetsunny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Behind her slight frame, outlining her body, are wings John can only describe as angelic. They’re barely visible, and they disappear as soon as the lightning is gone. But a second thunderous boom flickers through the sky and he sees them once more. </p><p>“We need to talk about your brother. Joseph Seed. We have to discuss the path he’s going down before he kills us all.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Seed/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Divine Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadQueen/gifts">MadQueen</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350353">Angelic Intervention</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadQueen/pseuds/MadQueen">MadQueen</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Exodus 23:20</p><p>“Behold, I send an angel before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared.”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John’s just stepping out of the shower when he hears a knock on his door. It’s soft and hesitant, as if the person on the other side isn’t too sure they’re at the right place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a client then, or someone coming to collect a debt he forgot to pay. Which doesn’t happen often, but the last time is recent enough for the thought to pop in his head anyway. He toys with the idea of answering the door in his towel, hair still wet and dripping down his neck. But he’s got a reputation among the general population, those who are only looking for a lawyer to defend them and not someone to do coke with on the weekends. He doesn’t need the bad press right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dresses fast, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He doesn’t even try to yank his jeans on over his wet legs, opting for a looser pair of dress pants instead. He pauses in front of his mirror, running his fingers through his hair to make himself look somewhat presentable before he deems that good enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s 7 pm, and he’s not on the clock, surely whoever’s knocking will understand his appearance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman standing at the door has soft brown skin and a flush of black hair that runs down her shoulders in waves. He doesn’t recognize her, doesn't know her, but he wishes he did. She’s beautiful and John’s dick reacts accordingly. Muscle memory by now. Some sort of conditioned response that makes him curse his body as he shields his lower half with the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Evening,” he greets, “is there something I can help you with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a word with you.” Her voice is pitched low, warping itself into a whisper. “Are you busy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John narrows his eyes ever so slightly. Confused. That hadn’t been the response he was expecting. Hardly even a ‘hello.’ He scans her body, the way she holds herself, and has to refrain from asking a million and one questions. She doesn’t seem rich, or corrupt for that matter, she doesn’t belong on this side of town. Standing outside the door of his high rise with all her pleasantries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…I am.” He lies smoothly. “Apologies, it’s late and I wasn’t expecting visitors. I can grab you my business card though?” He’s already turning away from the door, keeping his hand on the edge as he leans over towards a nearby desk and grabs the laminated paper. “It has the number and address for my office, call tomorrow, I’ll be in.” He pops his head back out the door and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just the whistling of the wind and nothing else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cautiously takes a step out, looking around for any sign of her. She would’ve had to run to escape his line of sight so fast. But he hadn’t heard a thing. </span>
</p><p>John slams the door shut a little too loudly. Annoyed if anything else at the strange interaction. His fingers clench around his card before he tosses it down back on the desk. </p><p>
  <span>It dawns on John that maybe he should’ve asked who she was, it didn’t occur to him that she might’ve been in serious trouble. Looking for a lawyer like himself, one not opposed to bending the rules and looking the other way if need be. He scared her off then, she went to find someone to help her </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a lost sale, that’s all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a full hour later on the dot, his grandfather clock chiming 8 pm when the knocking starts. He’s forcing down a late dinner and nearly drops his fork when he hears it. </span>
</p><p>It’s gentle and soft. Hesitant. The same as before. He knows it. </p><p>This time John answers the door prepared. He’s got his business card in his hand and holds it out immediately. </p><p>
  <span>“You left before I could give you this.” He shoots her a smile, the one he’s been told puts people at ease. “Here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks at his extended hand, waiting a beat before taking it gingerly. “John Duncan,” she reads aloud, thumb rubbing on the emblazoned letters. “That’s not your name.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John doesn’t panic, it isn’t very hard to find out that he’s adopted. That he used to be Seed. He tried to bury it when his parents died but obviously he hasn’t done too well if such a thing keeps happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t take too kindly to being blackmailed. Quite honestly he’s getting sick of people showing up thinking he’s ashamed of his past. Acting like it’s some big bad secret they can twist his arm over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, for now, he plays dumb. Just in case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re John Seed, are you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I go by John Duncan now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hums, and when she speaks next John realizes for the first time that she has a slight accent. Something outside the US that he can’t identify. </span>
</p><p>“I wasn’t given that information. I thought,” she shakes her head slightly, “I thought this was a test or maybe some kind of punishment. That I was wrong. So I left.” She takes a step forward and John can’t help but flinch. Hand tightening around the door knob, ready to close it if need be. “But you’re him. John Seed. You’ve changed quite a bit. Are you still a man of faith?”</p><p>
  <span>He sucks in a breath. Another thing easily found on his socials if someone really wanted to dig. Still...he’d really rather not have a stalker. Cops don’t take those seriously enough for his liking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes dart down to where she’s still holding his business card in front of her. He suddenly regrets handing it off so easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please contact me in the morning if you’d like my services, but as of now I’m going to ask that you leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do that, John, we need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sucks in a nervous breath and goes to close the door fully, but she wedges her foot against it. Not even flinching when the wood slams against her ankle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a servant of the Lord.” She says in a rush of air, “I’m an angel. It’s very important that we talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John still believes, even if he doesn't go to church any longer. He has a Bible on his nightstand and a cross hanging in his kitchen above the archway. He prays, on occasion, when things are really bad and he gets desperate. He supposes he believes in angels, they’re a part of the Bible after all, written in among everything else his parents beat into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what this woman says makes him laugh. “Oh yeah? You're an </span>
  <em>
    <span>angel? </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s...that’s nice sweetheart.” He scans down the length of her body, takes in the fitted dress she wears that clings to her hips and makes her breasts pop. “There’s a church, three block away from here, that’s the place you want.” He goes to close the door again but her foot is still in the way, and this time she places her hand on the frame, stepping near. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m right where I’m meant to be. Let me in, John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call the cops.” His voice shakes. It’s been a while since he dealt with someone so unstable. </span>
</p><p>“I’ll be gone by the time they arrive. You’ll look like a crazy man, and I don’t want to do that to you.” She steps away, leaving his space, and he releases a heavy breath he had been holding. </p><p>
  <span>He shuts the door in her face and locks it tight, falling back against it. His palms press flat to the wood, head hanging low as he tries to calm down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wood muffles her voice, but he hears her loud and clear. “You can’t lock me out forever, John Seed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Duncan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits for a response that never comes. Slowly he goes to check the peephole, expecting to find her staring right back like something out of a horror film. But no ones there. Again. It’s only his empty front porch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a drink.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drinking is a sin, John, you know that. I think I’m beginning to see why they sent me to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John screams, whirling around on his heel. He comes face to face with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s not possible. It can’t be. He hadn’t heard breaking glass or a jimmying of a door, he didn’t hear her crew up behind him and lean up against his mantle. </span>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>What</span></em> <em><span>are you?”</span></em></p><p>Her eyes blow wide, “I already told you.”</p><p>
  <span>“An Angel. Yes. Sure, you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me prove it to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s about to shake his head, to demand her to get the fuck out of his house. He’s ready to threaten her when she reaches out, palms facing towards him as if he’s a wild animal ready to lunge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush. Let God show you, surely you trust in Him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John flinches at the sudden crack of lightning outside. It’s not raining, or it wasn’t, but it is now. Coming down in sheets that threaten to break his window. He drags his eyes back to the stranger and nearly faints. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind her slight frame, outlining her body, are wings he can only describe as </span>
  <em>
    <span>angelic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They’re barely visible, and they disappear as soon as the lightning is gone. But a second thunderous boom flickers through the sky and he sees them once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not lying. This woman, this otherworldly creature, is an angel. She belongs to the heavens above. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he couldn’t have been any more cruel. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuckfuckfuck. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>“Dear God forgive me.” John rushes forward, nearly tripping in his haste. “I’m so very sorry. Forgive my sins, I shall confess and repent for the mistreatment of your blessed servant.”</p><p>
  <span>The Angel cups his cheek with a soft hand, tilting his head down to meet her chocolate eyes. “There’s no need to apologize. I understand your reluctance to let strangers inside your heart. You’ve lived a hard life from what I was told. Your file is a hefty one, that’s for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t—“ he frowns and sways on his feet, “my file?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at him and it’s so beautiful. He understands why she looks so perfect now. She’s untainted, the epitome of what God wants for the people who try to follow his word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll explain later, when we have time on our hands, but for now, we need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flutter shut as her hand slips away. “Of course, Angel, yes. About what? My sins? I’ll do anything—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to talk about your brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” He deflates slightly. Relief flooding his chest when he realizes this angel hasn’t been sent to punish him. “Which one?” He manages to choke out, images flashing behind his eyes of young faces he hasn’t seen in years. He thought his brothers were dead. He couldn’t find anything on either one of them outside of the army discharge papers on Jacob and the charges put against Joseph for when he was picked up for a public disturbance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joseph Seed.” She takes his hands and he feels a wonderful electric shock go through his body. “We have to discuss the path he’s going down before he kills us all.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Time To Get To Work</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know the Far Cry 5 timeline is pretty...wonky. So I did my best in this chapter to try and set up, IMO, what's been going on with Joseph/where he's been in relation to John's own life. </p><p>E.I. when he got married and had his kid</p><p>Hopefully it all makes sense but if you got any questions because I wasn't clear enough then feel free to ask</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Do you have a name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now’s not the time,” she chastises lightly. She skirts around his couch, towards the huge floor to ceiling windows lining the far wall. It’s not raining anymore, gone as soon as it came, and she peers out curiously. Pressing her palms flat to the glass. “Sit down, this may take a while.” She tips her head in his direction, a slight smile curing her lips up. “Depending on how many questions you ask. And I’ve been told humans usually do have many questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John doesn’t say anything to that, he’s too enchanted. His head’s still spinning, trying to make sense of all this. He forces his legs to move when he catches her eyes and realizes she isn’t going to talk unless he sits. He folds himself up on the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest as he presses back as far as he can go into the leather. He feels like a child again. Nerves are bundling his stomach up tight, like he’s about to be sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John flinches, eyes going wide at her tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waves a gesturing hand and turns to face him. “You’re anxious. Scared. I can see it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can feel it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It hurts--please, just stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mumbles a soft apology, bowing his head in a way he was taught when he was young. He isn’t sure that’s enough for an angel, but he hopes it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel sighs and turns back to the window. Hands lacing behind her back. “You haven’t seen your brother Joseph since you two were children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a question so he keeps quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re twenty-two, so he must be thirty-four. Twelve years between you both.” Her head thunks against the glass and he winces for her sake. But she keeps talking like her action is completely justified. “He’s a grown man now, but he needs guidance before he slips any further. There’s no shame in that, and your brother isn’t as prideful as he once was, but there’s something keeping him from taking the divine help that has been offered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean...” John stops himself. Would it be rude to ask questions like an impatient child?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t move, doesn’t look back at him, but she does coax him to continue. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steels himself, unsure if he has the guts to ask. It’s only her dead silence mingled in with the fear that he’s wasting an angel’s time that makes him speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he still Christian? Has he fallen too far?” He twirls his hands nervously in front of him, placing his feet down on the ground to stand. He takes a few calming breaths when she doesn’t answer. And it’s only when he moves to stand beside her that he can see the way her lips are twisted out of frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is.” She looks up at him then, just a shift of her neck to gaze imploringly at him. “He spreads the words of the Lord everyday.” She pushes away from the window and takes a hold of his arm, tugging him forward until they’re sharing the same breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s intoxicating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a limit to how much I can guide you. To what I can and cannot tell you, John. I can’t help you locate him because I don’t know where he is myself, I can’t tell you everything he’s been doing these years you two have spent apart because I wasn’t allowed to read his full file. Just pieces. So when you become angry with me--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t,” he whispers as a promise, leaning in closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds up a finger against his slightly parted lips. “You will. And when you do I will remind you that there’s only so much I can do to help.” Her hand falls away and his head dips down to his chest to follow where it goes to rest on her hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you at least tell me where to start?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives him a little smile. Kind of sad and cynical at the same time. She pities him, he thinks distantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find him first. We’ll go from there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a while for John to break away from her. He doesn’t want to look away, afraid that she’ll disappear and he’ll be left stumbling around without direction. Not like he has much to go off of right now, but it fills him with some sort of comfort that he’s not alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s a constant presence as he works from home the next couple of days. Sometimes she leaves his room where he's hunched over by his desk typing away, but he hears her further in his house moving around. He never asks what it is she’s doing, he doesn’t want her to think he’s getting distracted. He might not understand the importance of what’s going on because she won’t--can’t--tell him what’s going on, but he supposes that will come in due time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to find his brother first. Joseph’s name pops up throughout the years on government records that anyone could access. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. Estate records on the previous apartments he bought in years past, the last one he still owns despite being late on the rent. Marriage records for him and a Samantha Seed, previously Samantha King. John tries not to imagine Joseph young and happy with his wife, living a stable life where John actually had half a chance locating him--that was years ago, when John was just a boy in highschool still. Nothing he could’ve done, but the what ifs keep him up at night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The following birth certificate isn’t new either. What John failed to see at the time is the two death certificates that follow. How had he missed that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His angel is behind him, a hand on his shoulder as he shakes apart. </span>
  <span>“Calm down--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t...I read through all this only a couple years ago, as soon as I went to college. I knew he had a baby girl. I knew his wife died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hums behind him, gently massaging his skin. He leans back in his chair, into her touch. There’s a wet sheen to his eyes that he holds in. “I don’t remember his kid dying. If I knew that I would've gone to him. The hospital’s close enough--I could've been there!” He stands up suddenly and swipes at his desk, sending just about everything to the floor. Including his laptop. He brushes off his angel’s hand and rushes out of his office. Into the kitchen where he pulls open the fridge and grabs a beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your fault,” he snarls at her, surprised to find her lingering behind him as she watches him pop the tab and take a swallow. “What kind of fucked up fate is this?! Just another five minutes of research and I would’ve seen that death certificate! Why’d I fucking stop?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drinks the rest of it in silence. It’s not enough though. He wants to get drunk. He wants to forget about the failure he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t your job to rescue your brother then--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it is now? You stole his baby from him!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John!” She shouts at him and rushes forward so fast that he struggles to track her movements. She boxes him in against the counter, nails digging into his cheek as he invades his space. “That’s not what happened, you don’t know the full story, okay? I read your file, I know what you were doing the week you spent searching for Joseph. Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John swallows and glares down at her. Slowly he reaches up to encircle her wrist. He tries to pull her hand away from his face because her nails are starting to hurt, but she's so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually he gives up and just holds her wrist. Squeezing hard as if he has some chance of hurting her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were on a coke fueled bender.” She pushes him away and takes a step back. “You probably read a bunch of stuff you didn’t retain and at the end of it all you came to the conclusion that you didn't have enough to find him when really it was all there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John hates that thought. He fucking hates it. The idea of this being his fault because he was high is a fact he can’t stomach right now. Maybe ever. He walks around her and stalks off to the fridge, grabbing another can. His hands are shaking and he struggles to get it open. He needs something stronger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes his way to the living room, drinking as he goes. She’s practically on his heels, but she doesn’t bump into him when he suddenly stops at the side table to pop the drawer open. He fishes out a small baggie and goes to collapse on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t stop you from doing what you want--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fucking shit. So piss off.” He dumps the contents on the table, pushing the white powder into neat little lines with a twenty he pulled out of his back pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault, John.” She kneels down and tips her head to try and meet his eyes as he snorts up the drug. “It wasn’t your responsibility  to help him, it was ours and we didn’t do a very good job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you looking after my brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, I haven't dealt with any of you. Until now. They wanted an unbiased perspective and so they sent me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods and goes in for another drag. Rubbing at the underside of his nose and sniffing roughly as he falls back against the couch. “So how do you know your angels were trying to help at all?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She tilts her head like a puppy, reaching out to touch him. He lets it happen, sucking in a soft breath as her hand settles on his arm. He stares at their skin for a second longer, her brown with his too pale white, and decides he likes the beautiful contrast they make.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think we gave him that child?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John coughs and finally breaks out of the trance. Shoving her hand off. “That was so long ago, he was only twenty-five. What have you done since then? What’s the matter with him? Why does he need saving in the first place?!” John’s screaming now, and at some point he got on his feet to tower above her. His fists are clenched by his side like he's ready to strike, but she doesn't look scared of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anything that just makes him angrier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to lay down.” He takes his drink with him, cradling it to his chest. He’s only slightly annoyed when she follows. Watching apathetically as he strips on the way there, naked as he falls down on his bed, smashing his face into the pillow until he has to tip his head to the side before he suffocates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll find him, John. Nine years have passed...he’ll have left a trail along the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John grunts and curls up on his side. Tugging a blanket over his shivering form. He doesn’t want to hear from her right now. “I want you gone when I wake up,” he mutters, eyes closing in anger at the lack of answer. He snarls and sits up with a sudden burst of energy, “I said--!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in days he’s alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine. That’s fine. It’s what he wanted after all. He’ll find Joseph himself, that stupid fucking angel couldn’t help him anyway.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Searching</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John suddenly has a wonderful idea. He’s out of his mind on coke and meth, but that’s beside the point. </span>
</p><p>He doesn’t share said plan with his angel if only because he’s still angry with her. Which may be unfair and petty, but he’s got to be angry at someone and she’s the only one nearby to blame. It doesn’t matter, she figures out where they’re headed soon enough anyway. And he wouldn’t be surprised if she had some godly psychic ability and already knew what his plans were from the beginning. </p><p>Joseph’s tiny apartment smells of dirt and mildew when he swings the door open. That being said, it’s not messy, which is a nice surprise, but it’s practically empty. Minimalistic, if he’s being generous. There’s not a lot to explore, hardly anything to show that this is where Joseph calls home. On the occasions where he actually shows up—John had made a few phone calls, paid off the rent and asked when Joseph had been seen last. </p><p>
  <span>The landlord was useless on that front. She hasn’t heard from him in weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still makes the effort to visit daily, and sometimes, when his thoughts get too loud, he stays the night. He folds up on Joseph’s thin mattress and rocks himself to sleep, ignoring the screams outside and occasional cracks that sound like gunshots. This isn’t anything like his neighborhood. John doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>fit</span>
  </em>
  <span> here. But he keeps coming back. Something about the rough sidewalks draws him in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a mistake to make Joseph’s apartment his den for sin, but it happens anyhow. He starts shooting up in the living room and drinking expensive wine right before he hops in the old, rusted shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes he has a nice trip and imagines Joseph is there with him. Holding him with a hand rubbing circles on his back like he used to when they were children. Telling him everything is going to be okay. That he’ll never have to be alone again. Then he wakes up in the morning feeling worse than before. No Joseph in sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His angel stays. For all the terrible things he said that night she doesn’t seem too bothered. Maybe she’s a pro at this kind of stuff. John doesn’t apologize though. He has too much pride for that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s headed out to work, at his own house for once, when she stops him. She stands in front of him and holds up her hand, a frown on her pretty face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we doing, John?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s adjusting his sleeves and pulls on a pair of gloves, cocking an eyebrow. “Uh...going to meet a client?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” She huffs a humorless laugh. “No, that’s not what I meant and you know it.” She crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a quick once over. It lacks any judgement but it makes John uncomfortable all the same. “What are we doing to find Joseph?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m waiting for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your excuse for staying at his apartment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, “I don’t have time for this.” He tries to push past her but it doesn’t work too well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand shoots out and presses on his chest. So much power behind it. “Too bad. The world doesn’t have time for you to act this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you told me why this must be done quickly then I’d have more haste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There are rules, John, and I don’t care if you have the capacity to understand that or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John slaps her hand away, done with feeling her touch on his skin. “I’ll redouble my efforts, okay? You and me, we’ll go look tonight. But I have to leave for work now, I wasn’t joking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets him go after that. Dutifully stepping aside so he can pass. Not like she doesn’t follow him to work, she always does. She hangs around, usually somewhere behind his shoulder. At first it unnerved him, he felt watched in the worst kind of ways, but now he feels naked if she isn’t near. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s much later, when her and John are walking the streets of Joseph’s neighborhood, that he asks her what her name is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still haven’t told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Seraphina.” </span>
</p><p>He hums, thumbs tucked into the front of his pockets. He can’t talk much to her when they’re out like this, he’ll look insane, but for now they’re mostly alone. People drive more than they do walk in this part of town, not to mention that it’s freezing outside, so really it’s just him and her. </p><p>
  <span>“Most people ask what it means.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He purses his lips. “Do you want me to ask?” She doesn’t answer right away and he glances off to where she’s walking along beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Up to you, John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “I wish that weren’t the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean by that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems like a lot of things are up to me now. It’s...a burden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seraphina doesn’t argue with him on that front, and for that he’s glad, he’s beginning to tire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would’ve happened if I said no?” He asks curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t have. You have too much faith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True,” he bumps into her and is surprised at how </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> she feels. She is, technically, and he has a feeling one day he’s going to slip up in front of someone he shouldn’t and acknowledge her. “But what if?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure. That hasn’t happened to me before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nods. “Can we call it quits for the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seraphina stops walking, head tipped back slightly as she gazes at the changing colors of the sky. “That’s up to you, John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw clenches. She’s not doing it on purpose but there sounds like there’s disappointment in her voice. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. Always has. He can’t stand people being upset with him. Especially her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We...okay. Okay, there’s a few shelters around. We’ll check there. Maybe peak into some alleyways and get lucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at him and walks forward once more, clapping him on the back. “Wonderful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a fruitless endeavor. They return back home empty handed. No new leads. John had made the executive decision to turn around when he went to question a man on the street sitting beside a dumpster and got a gun shoved in his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was pushed into a brick wall, the only thing keeping him from stumbling on the ground being the dirty hand that wraps snugly around his neck. Then he’s staring down the stock of a pistol and wondering what he did to deserve this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seraphina had to step in, she’s a miracle worker. Quite literally. She did something...something he can’t explain hours later as he showers and gets ready for bed. But the man backed off and John got to walk away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one even glanced in their direction the whole way back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had thought, at the beginning of all this when Seraphina was sent to him, that he’d change. Like all the sin would be gone from his body. That’s not the case, weeks later, when he’s still drinking and smoking, but he’s not ashamed of those things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t seem to care too much. There are more important matters at play. It’s not so much the partying that does him in, in the end. But the sex. That’s when he sees disappointment flare up behind her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to tell her to go fuck herself, that he needs the stress relief and she isn’t helping by watching him fuck the cute new assistant he brought in a couple days ago. But once again, he’d seem crazy, so he keeps his mouth shut except for a few grunts and groans as shocks of pleasure rush through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John kicks her out in the morning and goes to shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you do those things to annoy me?”</span>
</p><p>“Seraphina—“</p><p>“We’re running out of time!” She hisses over the drumming of the shower. “Joseph is—“</p><p>
  <span>“For fucks sake! Joseph this! Joseph that! What about me!? What about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jacob</span>
  </em>
  <span>!?” He pops his head out from behind the curtain, shoving his wet hair out of his eyes. “Can we look for Jacob?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitates before answering. Gnawing on her bottom lip in a way that seems strangely human. “I don’t know. I was told what my mission was, and none of it involves Jacob.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finding him would be easier,” he argues.</span>
</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>
  <span>Okay, good, this is a start. She’s not shutting him down immediately. And she’s getting better at dealing with his temper, not rising to the bait like she used to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have pictures of him. From when he was discharged. I don’t know what Joseph looks like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seraphina looks away and shrugs. “I can’t stop you.” She turns and leaves him be after that. </span>
</p><p>When he comes out he finds dinner on the table. </p><p>“Eat,” she tells him, leaning on the counter to watch his expression. “You’ll need the energy for tomorrow.”</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Do you know something I don’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John—please. Stop asking questions I can’t answer. The majority of your diet is nothing but drugs and alcohol. I can’t have you wasting away.”</span>
</p><p>John nods, something warm flushing up through his chest at the implications behind her words. </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She cares.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been awhile since he’s been cared for. Probably by his brothers, when he was just a toddler. His lips curl into a soft smile as he goes to sit down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re happy. You’re all...bright, glowing from the inside out. I wish you could see it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs a little at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you thinking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My brothers,” he admits, which isn’t exactly a lie. It’s sort of a half truth. He doesn’t think he’d actually ever tell someone how much he longs to be pampered like he’s someone precious and meant to be cared for. “I’ll find them. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods, but doesn’t say much after that. It’s a quiet night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I’ll be able to talk with the council. Ask for direction...we can’t go stumbling around in the dark like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns at her across the table, sipping at his coffee as he scans the sidewalk early that morning. The picture of his eldest brother is laid out in front of him and he can’t help but compare it to everyone who walks by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have faith,” he tells her. Sounding more optimistic than he actually feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs and takes another sip, the liquid burning his throat on the way down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s start walking again.” He tosses his coffee away in a nearby overflowing garbage bins and makes his way further into the heart of Rome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t been here in what feels like forever, but Jacob may be here, for whatever reason, and that’s enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seraphina,” he turns his head slightly to catch her eyes and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spins on his heels so quick he almost collides with someone. They curse at him and give him a shove but he doesn’t care. Where’d his angel go?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a hand over her heart as she breathes deeply through her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seraphina!” His voice drops to a whisper-yell, not like it matters if anyone hears him, because he’s on the ground next to her in an instant. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she doesn’t sound okay at all. Her voice is tight, like every word she manages to get out past clenched teeth </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts. </span>
  </em>
  <span>John is suddenly very scared. He wonders if this is punishment, if his angel is being taken away because of all his sins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clasped her hands in his and bows his head, their foreheads bumping together. He feels the perspiration slick on her skin that wets his own almost immediately. Her eyes are clenched shut and so he does the same. Mumbling out pleading verses of scripture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops only when she groans low in her throat. Stealing his concentration away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she repeats. “I should’ve warned you that could happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? That what could’ve happened?” He tightens his hold on her hands and pulls back, giving her a quick squeeze until she finally looks at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes we get called back to heaven--mentally at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounded like it hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s just uncomfortable when I’m tethered so closely to someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nods, even if he doesn't fully understand. “You scared me.” He helps her stand, backing away when she seems like she isn't about to fall over. “Don’t do that again, don’t leave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seraphina shoots him a wry grin. Coming back to herself slowly. “That’s not up to me, John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glares at her, taking her hand in his as he turns back the way they came. “Just...Don’t. You can’t leave me.” He keeps ahold of her, as if there's a chance she'll disappear. “We’ll rest at Joseph's apartment, it’s closer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to rest, John, I recover faster than humans do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything to that, he’d rather she not question him at all, but he doesn’t feel like fighting right now. People are already looking at him funny for his show on the sidewalk. He just wants to lie down and be away from prying eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make it back without incident, though it takes a bit of fumbling to fit the key in the lock with how bad his hands are shaking. He doesn’t take his shoes off as he sluggishly makes his way over to the fridge. He stocked it with water and beer a couple days ago, the latter is running low. A reflection of how much time has passed and how he still hasn't found a sign of his brothers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn't been planning on getting high, It’s no fun when you’re doing it alone, but he started to shake and lash out so he figured it was about time for another hit. The joint he rolls is messy but it gets the job done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seraphina?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lays down on the couch, stretching his legs out over her lap. He feels her tense but a moment later she goes lax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I’m a bad man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no pause when she answers, as if she had been expecting him to ask eventually. “Not at all. Our sin doesn’t define us. We all live with it, but not everyone decides to overcome it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't want to be sinful...I think about that sometimes, y’know. It’s just easier, helps with what’s going on up here.” He taps his head with his knuckle, smiling at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn't return the grin, but maybe that's because she thinks he's making a joke about sin. He wouldn't--ever, he still has the fear of God deep inside his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knows? Maybe my brothers will be worse than I am? Standing next to them I'll look good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know, I shouldn't have said that. I’m sorry. I can repent or atone or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, John--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snarls out a frustrated note. Rubbing his hand across his eyes. Since when has he been the vulnerable type? He feels a surge of embarrassment than immediate shame for ever feeling such a thing in the eyes of an angel. Only she can judge him, no one else matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits up, swinging his legs off her lap. “I think I’m going to go to bed.” His hands clench the sofa, ruining the plush material in a too tight grip. “I’m off tomorrow. We’ll have more time to search.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seraphina nods wordlessly and watches him go off to the bedroom. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chance Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John wants to say it’s nothing but dumb luck that allows him to stumble upon Joseph, but he knows better. It’s fate. And if it’s not, by some chance, then there must be other beings manipulating the world around him. Someone or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> that pushed Joseph and him closer together  until they finally found one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s making his way up the long flight of stairs that leads to Joseph’s apartment when he sees his door, number 308, close just as he reaches the landing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears the lock slide into place. Watches the knob jiggle as whoever is behind it checks to make sure it’s actually locked tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seraphina? Am I...you saw that, right? The door closing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” she confirms, coming to stand beside him. She rests a hand on his shoulder and he glances at her. “Are we going in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” It’s not a question that had crossed his mind. They’ve spent so much time waiting for this moment—he’s not going to squander this opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open five seconds after he knocks, not leaving any gap at all between the man on the other side and John. As if there’s no danger in the world at all. Like he hadn’t considered being weary of strangers. John couldn’t imagine. The man staring at John with a curious gaze is taller than he is—about five inches—and he has to crane his head up to hold his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Very blue eyes. Ones exactly like his own. But maybe that’s wishful thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows roughly and winces at the dry click of his throat. He wants to take hold of Seraphina’s hand for comfort, but he can’t. Not here.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joseph?” He asks hesitantly, peeking up through his lashes and praying that he isn’t about to make a fool of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s eyes bulge and he can’t help the laugh he lets out. He takes a step forward and is surprised when this man—Joseph, only cocks his head to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Joseph Seed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” He stands a little straighter, hands smoothing out the cheap suit he’s wearing. “And you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John laughs again, though it’s watery now. He looks away, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. “Have so many years passed that you can no longer recognize your own brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph bristles at his comment. Eyes sliding across the length of his face, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really looking </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him now. He takes a step forward, his hand floating in the air next to his face like he wants to touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny?” </span>
</p><p>That’s all John needs. Just that little push to send him flying into Joseph’s arms. </p><p>
  <span>Inside his soul, from somewhere deep within him, he feels a lock sliding into place. Like all the stars are aligning. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is meant to be. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets it now. All the pain and suffering was worth it because now he has his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But somewhere in the middle of their embrace and John’s flow of tears he realizes something. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>recalls</span>
  </em>
  <span> something, more accurately. The sole reason he even started looking for Joseph again was because of Seraphina. Because there’s something terribly sinful about the path he’s on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that he feels sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph notices immediately. He pulls back and holds onto John’s shoulder, smiling at him softly. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve invited you in sooner. Come in, please.” He coaxes John inside with a hand on his lower back, showing off his house as if he’s never seen it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is a fair assumption. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John will have to get Joseph out of here tonight lest he realizes the sin his baby brother brought into his home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When John brings it up, going back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>house, Joseph just grins. “I’ve just found you brother, wherever you go, I go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s good enough for John. They’re back to his high rise building by noon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s given some strange looks as Joseph rides the elevator up, but his brother is nothing but kind to those souls who glare and mutter under their breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What on earth could be so wrong with Joseph? He’s so...perfect. And he really does love the Lord. He absolutely preens at the cross John’s got hanging in his house and holds onto the Bible reverently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t had my own copy in years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s yours!” John shakes off Seraphina’s touch on his shoulder—she’s been trying to grab his attention for the past hour—and rushes off towards Joseph. “Anything you want, Joe, just ask. I want to take care of you the same way you and Jacob took care of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph tips his head to the side, he does that a lot, and closes his eyes in thought. “Jacob...have you found our older brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph grunts and lays the Bible back down on his nightstand. “Is he alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John looks back at Seraphina but she’s not there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so,” he eventually says. “I’ll look into it.” It’s hard though, when a man with no family dies oftentimes death certificates aren’t drawn up at all. They probably wouldn’t even have marked him up as a John Doe—just would’ve thrown his body away with the trash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shudders at the thought, recoiling back slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll order food, if you’re hungry?”</span>
</p><p>Joseph hums and goes off to investigate the rest of John’s room. Running his hands over knickknacks and pictures that hang on the walls. John leaves him to it, warmth fluttering in his chest at the sight Joseph makes. He’s family, and that’s been a foreign concept for so very long. </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what Joseph likes, if he’s a picky eater—if he even has the luxury to be so. John plays it safe. Orders from a nondescript pizza place down the street. He gets one cheese and one pepperoni, hoping that he’ll be able to convince Joseph to eat at least half of the pie because he’s skin and bones as is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life hasn’t been kind to him, that’s for sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought makes John pause, hands bracing on the kitchen table. Maybe he can convince Joseph to use his shower and the many products in it, to dress in a pair of his softest pajamas and silk socks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his head carefully to the side, sensing Seraphina nearby. Sure enough she’s leaning up against the counter, watching him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head and bites her lip. Looking too unsure for an Angel of God. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs heavily through his nose. “We’re not done, huh? With this whole mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you that you needed to find Joseph...you have, that’s good. Things are working fine right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk to him John. Figure out for yourself what’s wrong inside his head. Then we’ll talk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s lip twist, he’s nervous. He doesn’t want to do this alone. It feels too much like an interrogation. But he takes one last look at her and reminds himself that he’s on a holy mission from God. This is important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a lawyer?” Joseph walks into the kitchen holding up a framed picture. His diploma. “Harvard, hm?” His lips tick up into a smile as he runs the pads of his finger over the glass. “That’s quite the achievement.” He hands it over to John and takes a seat at the table, looking up at him expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John gets the message and follows suit. Tucking the picture frame into his chest as his cheeks heat up at the compliment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So your life was good?” Joseph concludes, worry sparking in his eyes. John hears the hope that makes it’s way past Joseph’s throat and has to look away. He doesn’t want to disappoint his brother, he wants one of them to have had a nice childhood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sinks back into the chair, leg bouncing. “It was...I mean, I suppose I can’t complain too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John, there’s no need to be vague. I’m a grown man, I can handle hearing whatever you went through. Whether it was better than my own upbringing or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John laughs, tossing the diploma off onto the counter. It clatters loudly and he sees Joseph wince at the noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents wanted the best for their little boy. They tried so very hard to make sure I could get into Harvard. They only lived to see me graduate,” he shrugs then, lets his sentence hang for a minute, “they left all their estates to me. Gave me their inheritance. I have them to thank for where I am today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph reaches out across the table, palms facing up. Imploring for John to grab at his hands. He does so slowly, unused to this much touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were they good people, John?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They taught me how to accept God into my heart. They showed me the power of yes. They taught me to embrace my sins. Great life lessons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being facetious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recoils, arms crossing defensively over his chest as he glares at Joseph. “I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brother, you traded one kind of suffering for another. There’s no shame in that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John hates this. He hates talking about himself and receiving the pitying glances Joseph keeps sending his way. He’s fine. He turned out </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s not the one who apparently needs saving from an Angel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that in mind he steers the conversation in a different direction. Puts the focus on Joseph until it comes pouring out. Almost as if Joseph had been waiting for the perfect moment to reveal what he had been doing all their time apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to think I’d be interfering if I stepped into your life, John. I thought I was better off alone, that if God deemed me worthy of my brothers than he’d give them to me.” Joseph’s hands clench on the table, his voice shaking when he speaks next. “And here you are. This is meant to be. Everything happens for a reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nods along. He isn’t too sure where this is going just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m on a mission from God. We’re to save as many people as possible. The world is already on the brink! We can do this together, John, I had my doubts when I was all alone and suffering, but God has given me back my brother. That tells me I’ve been doing everything I should be, I’m on the right path.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joseph…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re we saving people </span>
  <em>
    <span>from</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph smiles, it lights up his whole face in a way John wants to capture and protect. But then he talks and ruins the whole thing. “From the end of the world, Johnny, what else?” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Just A Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A quick question for anyone reading and wouldn’t mind giving their two cents; how do you feel about the short chapters? I don’t mind writing them and I figured I posted often enough that the short chapters wouldn’t matter, but let me know if longer ones would be more appealing</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I—you...we’re doing what?? Who told you that?”</span>
</p><p>“God.” His response is instant, and that alone frightens John. “The Voice. Maybe you were too young to remember, but I first heard Him when I was just a child getting beaten by our father’s belt. I used to tell you stories about what I heard. To reassure you mostly, when you couldn’t sleep at night and were scared of the future.” Joseph looks away, brows titling down in consideration. “That was after Jacob got taken away by the law.” </p><p>
  <span>There’s ice and malice in his brother's voice, and that only serves to make John uneasy. He’s not afraid though, such a thought is silly, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Joseph</span>
  </em>
  <span> after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Seraphina is still lingering in his periphery, a constant reminder of what he has to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joseph...I have to admit that I don’t recall much from our childhood. I could hardly remember what you looked like…” he blows out an unsteady breath and meets Joseph’s eyes. He goes out on a limb, prays that the idea that had been floating around in the back of his mind is actually correct before he ruins everything. “But how do you know it’s God you’re talking to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John sees Seraphina’s eyes go wide. She darts forward, startling him for a moment before he schools his expression back into place. She’s beside Joseph, hands planted firmly on the table, only inches away from touching Joseph’s pinky finger. </span>
</p><p><span>She looks scared. Of him? No.</span> <span>No...</span><em><span>For</span></em><span> him.</span></p><p>
  <span>He understands why immediately. Joseph's expression goes curiously dark and his frown flashes too many teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could it not be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s...That’s not an answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph tips his head to the side, eyes flickering closed before he starts speaking in a low voice that doesn’t sound like his own. “The Voice guided me to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps on going like John hadn’t said a thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Voice tested me to make sure I’m strong, He has been there for me when I was at my lowest, time and time again.” He looks up at John and clenches his hands on the table. He looks like he wants to yell, but holds back. Just barely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It shows me grande things, Johnny, things only God himself would know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John tries to keep the past from creeping in, the tone in Joseph’s voice mingled with his faithful words sound too much like the teachings his parents beat into him until he learned to shift into the snake he is today. He shudders, feeling comforted only when Seraphina rushes over to lay a hand on his shoulder and whispers in his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing good, John, you’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>smart</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Just a little more. I can lend you my own courage if that’s what it takes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He manages a slight shake of his head, he wants to do this on his own, he wants to prove himself to God.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joseph—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to find Jacob, then things can begin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John shifts, “what things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a frustrated noise. “Have you been listening at all?” Joseph stands up and begins to pace the length of John’s kitchen. “We have to start saving people and tell them the end is coming. I can’t do it without my family.” He stops suddenly and stares imploringly at John, large blue eyes starting to look wet. “I need you, brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the kind of manipulation John has dealt with his entire life, he’s a pro at recognizing it, so it shouldn't work. He knows all the signs. But this is his </span>
  <em>
    <span>brother</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he can't get past that mental hurdle.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have faith in God, Joe, don’t get me wrong, but what you’re saying...whatever happened to ‘thou shalt not worship false idols?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph relaxes slightly, losing that manic glare that scared John so much. “Is that what you’re worried about?” He laughs slightly, shaking his head, “I’m not playing God. I’m a vessel for his words, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nods, for some reason that makes him feel better. He isn’t sure what to say next but that’s fine because at that moment the doorbell chimes the arrival of their food. John leaps at the chance to excuse himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets Joseph eat at the table alone. John needs time alone to think. To talk to his angel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he closes the bedroom door he turns to address her. She beats him to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you’d see the truth so soon. I’m proud of you. You’re on the right path.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John winces at her choice of words, holding up a hand to stop her. “You sound like him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives him a crooked smile, stepping forward to cup the sides of his face. “You can find Jacob if you like, I don’t see why that would be a problem, but just remember what you have to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...what I have to do? Are you asking me to kill him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seraphina flinches, horror etching its way onto her face to mirror his own slack glare. “No. Goodness no, that’s a sin, John. You just need to make him believe you when you say that The Voice he’s hearing isn't as holy as he thinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs and moves to rest his head against hers. “How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t tell you, that would ruin things.” she pets along the nape of his neck in a way he assumes is meant to be some sort of apology. “So many angels have tried to help Joseph and they’ve failed every step of the way. You must understand that we—angels—can’t interfere with the human world too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nuzzles into her palm and sighs, this is getting to be a little too much. He’s just a man, how is he possibly supposed to compete against some devilish entity living inside his brother’s skull?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft knock on his door startles him away from Seraphina, and he turns just in time to meet Joseph’s eyes and not seem too suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I take the couch for the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John frowns, scratching at his cheek absentmindedly as he tries to come up with a response. His brain is still frazzled from the conversation he just had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, um, no, you can sleep in my bed. It’s certainly big enough for the both of us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph only hesitates for a second before nodding and stepping past the threshold into his bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a bit early for bed, but he doesn’t complain as Joseph undresses and lays down. He doesn’t accept the clothes John offered though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a heavy sigh John goes to sit down at his desk tucked away in the corner, scribbling mindlessly in a notebook he left opened. He doesn’t realize how late it is until Joseph calls out to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were sleeping,” John mutters, glancing up towards the small lamp that’s still on. “Is the light bothering you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. No.” Joseph sits up and twists towards John more fully. “I keep waking up. Nightmares.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John perks up and glances back over his shoulder at him. Catching sight of his silhouette half illuminated by the lamp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have nightmares?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slight nod. “I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t sound ashamed of the fact. So John swallows and asks “about what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our father. The people who worked us like cattle. The barn burning down and Jacob being stolen away.” He rattles them off easily, holding John’s eyes until he hesitates. A fine tremor runs through him and his hands clench the sheets that surround him. “My wife and child. A baby girl…did you know that, John? I had a daughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John chokes slightly, fingers picking at the loose threads of his pants. It distracts him only for a moment. Guilt rushes through him, Seraphina had assured him of otherwise but he still blames himself for not finding Joseph sooner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees Joseph curl in on himself, and John recognizes that dark look that’s clouding his eyes and stealing him away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John clears his throat. “What was her name? Your daughter?” He already knows the answer, but Joseph seems like the kind of person who would want to talk through the bad parts of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope. My wife and I hadn’t discussed names too much, we thought we had time.” His voice strains and catches on the last word. “But the doctors told me that it was a beautiful name. That it was poetic in a way—for it was what I needed to have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John stands up on shaky feet, tugging his shirt off and sitting on the edge of the bed to glare at his older brother. He’s not too sure if it’s noticeable in the darkness, but it helps calm his anger all the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He used to blame God for dangling the perfect life in front of his brother before snatching it away so abruptly. He wonders if Joseph does too, if he did at one point. He’ll ask later, when he isn’t so tired. A lot has happened today, he needs a night's rest to process it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, if he pushes too far Joseph will close up and lock John out. He can’t have that. He has to save his brother before The Voice leads him to do something rash. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Settling In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s 6:00 am when Joseph shakes him awake. He isn’t expected at his office until 8:00, to say he’s pissed is an understatement. Doesn’t Joseph realize how taxing these last few days have been for him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John.” Another rough shake, hard enough that it almost sends him falling off the bed. “Are these yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John grunts and rolls over, squinting past the lamp Joseph had turned on to see what he’s currently holding up. A small bag tinged white from powder previously used that’s almost gone and a palm full of needles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes frozen for a moment, carefully tracking his brother’s face. Where he expects to find anger he sees nothing but concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoots up to sit properly and plucks the bag from Joseph’s hands. Ever so carefully taking the needles from him before he accidentally pricks himself. </span>
</p><p>“Yeah,” he eventually answers, laying the evidence out in front of him. “They’re mine.”</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you used drugs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John shrugs. There’s not much to say. He’s waiting for a lecture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph sighs and crawls back into bed, leaning against John’s shoulder heavily. He opens his mouth a few times, trying to say something he can’t quite get out past his lips. </span>
</p><p>“How long?”</p><p>“Oh I dunno…” he twists the blanket in his grasp, sucking in a deep breath as he combs back through his memory. “College was an adventure.” He laughs humorlessly at the images that float past his mind’s eye. “I got caught up in a different world away from my parents.”</p><p>
  <span>“Understandable, after all the abuse—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Joe. It wasn’t abuse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he glances up at his brother, he’s frowning. Fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and slap some sense into John. Or hug him, that seems more Joseph’s style. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d prefer violence, to be honest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to get clean?” Joseph asks softly, dropping their disagreement for now. “I can help, you don’t have to do it alone.” Joseph grabs his hand and squeezes. “I want you to love yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John scoffs and pushes off the bed, collecting the bag and needles as he goes. He shoves them back into his bedside table, reminding himself that he’ll need to find a new place to put them when he comes back from work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to escape the conversation and so he does, ignoring the way Joseph continues to talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my brother, Johnny, I don’t want to see you strung out and suffering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slams the door to the bathroom shut a little too loudly. Twisting the shower on to block out the sound of Joseph moving around doing God knows what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave me alone Seraphina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts undressing, focusing intently on unbuttoning his pajama top to make it clear that they won’t be speaking about what just happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t let up though. Of course she doesn’t, he should know better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting clean from those drugs would help you in the long run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly looks up, hands pausing at the waistband of his sweatpants. “What’re you saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips twist, “what comes next won’t be easy, John, you should know that. You’re going to have to oppose your brother’s word at every turn if you want to save him and those who cross his path. It’ll be best if you have a clear head and don’t have to rely on substances to cope.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long to mull over what she said, the ten minute shower is enough for him to make up his mind and solidify in his thoughts that he has to be a better man if he’s working with divine powers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it,” he tells her when he’s toweled off and about to go back into his bedroom. “It’d be foolish not to heed the advice of an angel, after all.” And they leave it at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dresses sluggishly, more than aware that he’s going to make it way too early to work if he goes any faster, maybe he’ll stop at that small cafe he spotted on the way there just to kill time. He hears Joseph walk in just as he’s tugging his belt through the last of its loops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph lingers there for a few seconds, clearly something he wants to say but is holding back. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What Joe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t immediately respond which only makes John more upset, he swivels on his heels, loose strands of hair hanging in his eyes from the sudden movement. “If you have something to say…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to ask for your opinion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On…?”</span>
</p><p>Joseph looks down at his fingers and sighs, maybe he expects John to get angry, and he feels bad for making his brother think he’s such a loose canon. He’ll have to work on that. </p><p>“While you’re at work I was thinking I could go look for Jacob.”</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, you don’t have to ask for permission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John turns back to his mirror and fixes his hair up, turning his chin this way and that to look at his beard--it needs trimming soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can borrow some of my clothes, I’ll buy you some when we have time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph hums, looking mildly uncomfortable at the suggestion, and makes his way over to John’s wardrobe, running his hands over the clothes inside before settling on one of the few items he owns that are a little more modest. It’s when Joseph is only left in his boxers and John is about to grab his keys and head out that he catches sight of his brother’s body in the mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s covered in scars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some John easily recognizes, their distorted shape matches some of his own. The indent of a belt buckle and the circular gouges from the smouldering end of a cigarette. Some are much newer, not from their father, jaggedly patched together, like the one on his ribs that makes John cringe when he stares at it a little too long. There’s one on the inside of his upper arm that has the distinct shape of a blade, and the mere thought that someone took a knife to his brother makes John’s insides bubble with rage. Never again will he let someone hurt Joseph. He doesn’t have to nurse anymore wounds or gain anymore scars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had it just as bad as I did,” John says past a whisper, “what’s that one from?” He steps forward and hesitantly runs his finger over a long, thin, reddish scar that curves over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I had to leave the orphanage, once I turned 18, I found a job on a farm. It was something familiar--the manual labor of it. Do you remember our first foster parents had a farm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nods wordlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The family that hired me had a few other field hands working for them, just as poor as me, and sometimes they got desperate. One night I woke up to one of them going through my bag. There wasn’t much in it, a few pictures of you and Jake, my only change of clothes, a water bottle and some stale granola bars. He was trying to steal from me.” Joseph’s voice gets hard and angry from the memory, and John can’t blame him. “I don’t know if I would’ve shared the few things I had, I was bad off, poor just like him, and I was greedy. I tried to stop him and he attacked me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives John a small grin, reaching out to settle his hands on John’s shoulders. “It was worth it. Like I said, it made me stronger. It led me to you.” Joseph grabs the back of John’s neck and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Life isn’t without adversity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nods and steps out, leaving the heavy atmosphere he created. He wants to say a lot, most notably that Joseph sounds a little bit like a hypocrite. Joseph went through ‘tests’ that benefited him but what John went through was ‘abuse?’ Whatever, John’s past doesn’t bother him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s a bit distracted at work, mind running a mile a minute on all the wrong things. He pushes the button to call for his secretary and taps his fingers impatiently against his desk until she knocks softly and pops her head around the corner, entering when John crooks his finger for her to come in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Mr. Duncan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s my credit card,” he holds the silver plastic twixt his fingers for her to take, “run down to the nearest store you can find and buy me a smartphone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow but obediently takes it from him. “The newest model?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks for a moment about what would be best for Joseph, a man so disconnected from society, seeming almost like a pope in that regard. Joseph didn’t appear to like the idea of John buying him something as important as clothes, he’d rather not hear Joseph bitch if he were to give him a shiny, expensive phone. Eventually he shakes his hand, “no, that’s not necessary, just something that’ll call and text. I trust your judgement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that out of the way he feels a little better knowing that soon enough him and Joseph will be able to keep in touch. He isn’t about to lose his brother again. Nor is he letting Joseph return to Rome in that dingy apartment, as much as his brother insists that they’ll have to go back. He didn’t go into detail on </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which was mildly infuriating, but if John had to guess then it would have to deal with his preaching. Seraphina said he spreads the Lord’s word and it isn’t that hard to imagine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s when he gets home, new phone in tow, that he takes a moment to relax. Joseph is preparing dinner and it smells heavenly, John tells him so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph laughs, “It’s something simple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still smells good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts the phone down on the couch, he’ll give it to him before he leaves for work tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanders back into the kitchen, leaning against the wall watching Joseph stir what bubbling on the stove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you get your tattoos done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He perks up slightly, glancing down at his arms where the myriad of random drawings decorate his skin. “I did some myself, others from colleagues. Why? Do you want one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph is quiet and that’s answer enough. It makes John smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you get them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s been asked that many times before by many different people, and usually he doesn’t tell the truth. It depends on the person, what they want to hear and what will get them home with him the soonest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this is Joseph and if he can’t be honest with his brother then who can he be honest with?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To cover my scars mostly.” He leaves out the part that the people he slept with didn’t like them and he was sick of having to fuck with just a weak lamp on because some of his scars were too ‘gross.’ Joseph doesn’t need to hear about the many people he brought to bed. “And I grew to like the feeling after being numb for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a stretch of silence after that and John immediately regrets revealing that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could give you one,” John says quickly before Joseph can start prying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph takes the pot off the stove and places it down on the counter, taking out bowls and spoons. “That would be nice.” He purses his lips in thought, “maybe on my collarbone? I’ve always wanted bluejays or something of that nature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do that. Color? I think color would look grande.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph agrees and John’s heart does a little happy flutter. He’s happy, he realizes, for the first time in a while he’s actually happy. And he isn’t drunk or high. It hits John suddenly that they need to find Jacob, imagine how perfect things will be when they’re together again, it’s almost too good to be true. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When they find Jacob he's just a shell of his former self. He isn’t the strong, protective brother John still has hazy memories of. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Is that better?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t be sure just yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now he’s simply glad to have his siblings back by his side. Even if it’s awkward as all hell. They don’t look like they belong together sitting around John’s ornately decorated dining room table with containers of take out spread around. John had wanted to get out proper bowls and spoons but Jacob had huffed something close to a laugh and told him not to bother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s forced to listen to the barely there scrap of plastic silverware against styrofoam. It’s just soup—but John knows Jacob loves soup. Or he used to. Or it was all the Seed patriarch really bought and thus the only thing to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s afraid to ask honestly. He’d rather not dwell on the fact that he doesn’t know Jacob as well as he wants to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead he just tips his head and asks a soft “is it good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jacob grunts past a mouthful, a terribly messy eater but he looks gaunt and starving (so unlike the picture of muscles John saw on his discharge papers) and Joseph smiles, innately pleased at being reunited. Not nervous like John...not smug either, just sort of like this had been expected from the start. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s going to ask him tomorrow about his preaching and the voice in his head, the thought that his whole world could go belly up at any moment makes him sick. But for now John wants to savor his brothers’ company. </span>
</p><p><span>Hard though, when John’s hands are shaking. He’s counting the days since his last hit, three so far, not a record of his but the added stress isn’t helping. He tries to hide it the best he can from </span>Jacob, he doesn’t want to see any sort of disappointment from the one he seeks praise from the most. </p><p>
  <span>John finishes quicker if only because Jacob had done so and it spurs him on. He drums his fingers on the table, the silence is killing him. He blows an agitated breath and conjures up the first topic that comes to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any tattoos, Jacob?” Can’t call him Jake, that feels weird when he feels as if the man sitting across from him is a stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.” </span>
</p><p>John perks up at that. Eyes slipping down Jacob’s broad chest covered by a dirty army jacket and a t-shirt that probably used to be white at one point. </p><p>
  <span>Jacob chuckles and the sound makes John cringe at how unpracticed it is. “On my thigh. Serial number of one of my friends. He served with me up until the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nods, touched for a moment and a bit embarrassed because his tattoos don’t really have any meaning at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking of giving Joseph one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John frowns and sits a little taller. “I—of course, I wouldn’t just take a needle to his skin.” He tries to soften his glare a little bit when he notices the slight curl to Jacob’s lip, he’s only joking and now John feels stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jus’ teasing, kiddo. I know you wouldn’t hurt, Joe like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John gives a curt nod and clears his throat. He stands up too fast and makes the chair screech on the wood. It has him wincing as he hurries to clear the table just as Joseph finishes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a little later that he finds Jacob in the bathroom, door open as he tilts his head around in the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a razor in the bottom drawer,” John says passingly, not wanting to linger or even suggest that Jacob should clean up a little. But John would prefer if he did—Joseph even looks better with his beard cut close to his face and hair trimmed to just below his ears. “An electric one too.” He saw the stubble growing on Jacob’s scalp, the reminiscent mark of an army cut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wants Jacob to feel comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph’s reading in the living room, back hunched in a position that must be painful as he scribbles out nonsense on a lined piece of paper he must’ve snagged from John’s desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha writing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph doesn’t look up or speak until he’s finished the line he’s writing. “Simply putting my thoughts down, brother. I’m unsure where to go next and I’ve been praying for guidance for days now…” he shakes his head and leans back into the couch. “I want to go to Rome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joseph—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know we’ve spoken about this but you haven’t really listened to why it’s so important. This is life or death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t leave my job, that’s the only thing keeping us afloat.” He speaks slowly, as if he’s trying to explain something to a child. He’ll apologize later for his tone, but right now he doesn’t want to have this conversation. “I do listen to you, Joe, I’m getting clean, but I haven’t heard a damn word about that. No, ‘good job, John, I’m so proud of you.’ We all need time to adjust, and moving to Rome isn’t going to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph doesn’t look angry, he never is and John is learning that it takes a lot to actually make him yell. He sighs deeply and rubs at his brow. “The Voice wants me to spread His word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you do that here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph scoffs, “in a town like this? With rich businessmen and women who don’t know what it means to be impoverished? They won’t listen, no matter how filled with sin they are. We must find people with more humble beginnings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...are you saying I’m sinful, Joseph? I’m among those businessmen in case you’ve forgotten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment John thinks he has Joseph caught, that his brother will back off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does nothing like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you are,” he says easily, like it’s the most probable conclusion in the world, “you’re greedy. Always taking and never wanting to give. That’s okay, though, you can change. I won’t let my brother burn when God unleashes his wrath.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John…has suddenly had enough. He stands up on shaky legs and trudges back to his bedroom. Falling down limply on the mattress where he screams into his pillow. His fists bunch up the silky blankets and his legs kick like he’s a child. A hand settling roughly on the center of his back startles him and he almost yells, assuming it’s Joseph coming to talk more about his sin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Jacob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hair is wet and he smells like John’s soap instead of smoke and body odor. He’s still wearing his dirty clothes which should make John cringe away when he sits down on the edge of his bed but suddenly John’s got tears running down his face and he just wants his brother to hold him and tell him that everything is going to be okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’okay, kid. Least we're together, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John curls up in Jacob’s arms, shaking as his tears fall silently. He doesn’t answer, he can’t, and Jacob doesn’t seem to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s different,” John manages finally, “Joseph.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I know he is. But he’s still Joe, he’s just found God is all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John hesitates to nod, wondering briefly what the rules are for letting his brother know the mission John’s been giving as well. He shoves his face in Jacob’s jacket. Flinching at his next comment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you getting clean…? What’s your drug of choice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jake—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t judging ya, I wanna help. Can’t do it by yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John disagrees. He’s never really needed anyone so why should this be any different. He doesn’t want to drag his brothers down as he struggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John sighs and tries one last time to give Jacob a way out. “You don’t have to help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Don’t worry, kid, I’ve gotcha.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Sermons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I fucking h-hate you. I’m dying and you don’t care!”</span>
</p><p>“Johnny—“</p><p>
  <span>“You’re killing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes roll up into the back of his head, a fresh wave of pain rolling through his body. He just barely sees Seraphina by the side of his bed. She looks worried, which can’t be good, but John is so out of his mind that he can’t register anything at all. Especially his angel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to sit up but Joseph just pushes him back down. There’s shaky strength behind his hand, fear and concern floating in his eyes when John manages to lock their gazes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it hurts—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joseph sighs but simply pets through John’s sweaty hair. “You’re burning up, would you like a shower? I can help you get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shower ain’t gonna help him, Joe.” Jacob rumbles out from somewhere John can’t see. “Only thing we can do is be here. He’ll come around eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation fades into the background, just white noise that he can’t keep track of. Not like he tries very hard. He’s more focused on keeping his wits about him, his blanket crushed between his teeth as if that would somehow distract him from the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s delirious at the moment, and so naturally the next week is worse. He’s still sweating and no amount of cold baths are helping. He’s been sick down his front more times than he can count as he slips in and out of consciousness, embarrassed when Jacob has to keep cleaning him up and folding new clothes on his body like he’s an infant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John says...a lot of terrible things. Most of which are foggy and half remembered. It’s only by the grace of god that he doesn’t slip up and talk to Seraphina. She’s always there and he almost says something to her, but she’s quick to rush forward and press a finger over his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jacob notices him staring off into the distance and smiling dreamily. Sometimes cuddled up grasping for someone he can’t see, but Jacob chalks it up to the drugs finally leaving his body and making him dopey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In ten years he’ll thank his brothers for helping him through that—but for now the urges are still there. Even after he went through hell to stay away from the drugs he’s thinking about just having a small dose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He switches his vice to coffee and sugary sweet gum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It works as good as it could ever hope it would. Doesn’t matter, he’s got too much on his mind to be high, his angel was right it would seem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s months later when John finally agrees and moves to Rome. He doesn’t see the harm in it, not really, he can keep his job and buy them a nice house. He’ll still be with his brothers, and surely that counts for something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s difficult, but Joseph reminds him that good things in life don’t come easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he does, but he’s impatient and scared. Nerves wrack his body every single day. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Joseph to become an evil man who’s apt to stray from God. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a big burden. It’d be easier if he could lighten the load just a little bit and have someone to talk to—to plan with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jacob should know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John, we’ve spoken about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snarls, hands bunching up into fists on his lap. He’s fresh out of the shower and his brothers are waiting for him, probably five minutes away from barging his room to ask what’s taking so long. But the thought of going to another one of Joseph’s sermons that only hosts the three of them makes him sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The subject material has been getting progressively darker too, more and more about the end of the word and the Voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jacob doesn’t believe in God like him and Joseph do, and yet even he seems ready and willing to attend. He’s able to listen to their brother prattle on in the unrelenting Georgia heat better than John ever could. Then again he doesn’t have to worry about saving Joseph’s soul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do it alone, Seraphina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alone? Why do you think I’m here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John doesn’t answer, just gives an annoyed shake of his head and starts towards the door. He wants to get this done and over with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stops him though, standing in front of him and impeding his progress. She’s got a hand on his shoulder and a concerned look in her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should challenge him, John, when he’s preaching.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nods but doesn’t say what a terrible idea that is. Doesn’t she realize how passionate Joseph is? How devout to the Thing whispering in his ear? Besides, it’s not like he has any support, no one to back up his crazy mind—John has time to figure this out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Bout time,” Jacob rumbles when he steps out into the living room. Smaller than his last place, that will never not be a nuisance to John. “C’mon, Joe’s waiting for us outside in the car.” One of the few things Joseph approved of John keeping. He had to get rid of the drugs, the sex, the parties and his expensive toiletries, but his car was useful to Joseph’s plan so that got to stay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reach their usual destination—a small field that belongs to the nice old couple that hired Jacob to take care of their animals—John notices something different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The home owners who have only met John and Joseph a handful of times in passing, once when they were invited over for dinner, are waiting for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They offer to help set up. It’s a nice gesture, the tent and tables and folding chairs always takes too much time, but John doesn’t understand why they’d do it. To get the Seeds of their land faster? Or pity? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s when they ask to stay for Joseph’s sermon that John begins to sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>People have mouths, people talk and gossip to their friends and acquaintances. And the old folks sitting beside John are enraptured by Joseph. His older brother has charisma. A fire that even the strongest storm couldn’t dampen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too bad he’s speaking bullshit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe he's not. And that’s what scares John the most. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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